


"you love it."

by Anonymous



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: AU, Christmas, Fake Dating, Idiots, M/M, That's literally all that this is :')
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: steve agrees to fake date tim over the holidays.nothing could possibly go wrong.
Relationships: Tim Paine/Steve Smith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi. i don't know what this is, kinda just happened. merry christmas, hope you enjoy :')
> 
> (also, for reasons, i've completely disregarded the australian summer (aka. hell) and made it snow in tasmania over christmas. works out better for everyone that way :') )

“Yeah, anyway, I’m minding my own business painting this bloke’s living room walls, having a decent time, and then I hear this BANG!” Tim recalls, gesturing dramatically with his hands. “And so I turn around to see what’s going on, and Matty Wade’s managed to knock every single can, bar mine, over, and LITRES of paint are now covering this guy’s floor.”

Steve nods from his place across from Tim as he takes a sip of his coffee, slightly amused. “How’d he do that, then?”

“Got no clue, but it’s Matt Wade, he always finds a way,” Tim grins. “Anyway, the fact that we’ve now painted this man’s floor instead of his walls is a bit of a problem, so I had to call Pete _and_ Starcy in to help with the cleaning efforts.” Tim pinches his brow at the memory. “Safe to say they weren’t too pleased with having to come in on their afternoon off, but we got it all fixed with time to spare, and I paid them overtime, which they were happy with. Joked about docking Wadey’s pay, too, but I didn’t have the heart. Everyone makes mistakes. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what are you up to for Christmas?”

Steve shrugs and take another long sip of his coffee. “You’re gonna give me whiplash with how fast you change subjects, Tim,” he says, trying to ignore the way his heart had sped up. Really, he’s just giving himself time to process Tim’s question. Tim Paine, his long-time best friend, (and crush), wants to know what he’s doing over Christmas? It’s a heavy question.

Tim grins. “Sorry. Thought you’d be used to it by now; you’ve been stuck with me for that long.”

Steve shrugs. “Wouldn’t say ‘_stuck with you_,’” he replies before he can stop himself, lifting his cup to his lips to hide his blush immediately afterwards.

Tim smiles warmly. “You wouldn’t? That’s nice to know. But seriously, what are you doing over the Christmas break? You’re not working, are you? Knowing that prick boss of yours, he’ll make you—“

“No, Tim, I’ve got two weeks off,” Steve interrupts, smiling slightly at Tim’s description. “Why?”

Tim takes a moment to stare at Steve; his eyes roam over his face before flicking back up to his eyes and Steve’s uncomfortable under the intense gaze.

“Tim?”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?” Tim says, eyes still fixed on Steve’s.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah?”

“Like, my best friend in the whole world. ‘_Don’t know what I’d do without you_’ type of best friend. The person I tell everything to—“

Steve catches on. “What do you want, Paine?” He asks with a playful roll of his eyes.

Tim grins. “What makes you think I want anything?”

“I’m not an idiot. I’ve known you for too long.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, unblinking. “_Dammit_,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head slightly before looking up again. “So, uh... I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “A problem?”

“Mm, and... it may be a problem I have caused myself,” Tim says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Always digging holes for myself these days—“

“Tim, stop stalling,” Steve interrupts. “What’s up? How can I help?”

Tim’s eyes soften ever so slightly, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “Well, _ImayhavetoldmyparentsthatIwasdatingsomeonewhenreallyI’mnotatallandtheytoldmeto_—“

“Woah woah _woah_,” Steve cuts Tim off, bewildered. “I didn’t catch a single word of that. Say it again, but slower. Maybe in English this time, too.”

Tim laughs weakly and shakes his head, and is he _nervous_? Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tim like this before. It’s intriguing.

“Sorry, sorry. Um, I was trying to say that I may have accidentally told my parents that I’m dating someone. Yeah. We’ll start with that,” Tim says; the last bit more to himself.

Steve feels his heart sink a little at the thought of Tim dating someone else, but he quickly shakes it off. “Tim, how did you _accidentally_ tell them that you’re dating someone? And, _are_ you actually dating someone?” Steve crosses his fingers under the table at the last part of the question. _Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say—_

“Ah, no,” Tim huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

Thank _god_. Steve uncrosses his fingers.

“And... uh, well... I’m not really sure?” Tim tries. “Mum was kind of hounding me about needing to get a move on about finding someone, and she was just going on and on and _on_, and I got frustrated and ended up telling her that I had someone just to get her to stop talking.”

“But you—you don’t have anyone?” Steve asks, confused.

Tim sighs. “No. And I thought that she wouldn’t ask any more about it, but that just proves I’m more of an idiot than I originally thought, doesn’t it? Of _course_ my mother was going to ask more about this boyfriend that I told her I had—“

Steve’s heart stops. “Wait, _boyfriend_?” He blurts helplessly. Tim’s into guys? Since when has Tim been into guys? Maybe Steve had heard wrong—

“Oh, shit, did I not—did I not tell you? Fuck, Steve, yeah, I’m— I, uh, I swing both ways?” Tim cringes. “God, that’s an awful way to put it, isn’t it?”

Steve can still only stare at Tim, mouth agape and eyes wide, trying to process this information. He doesn’t notice Tim deflate as he takes in Steve’s expression.

“Smudge?” Tim’s voice is vulnerable. “Do you—are you not alright with that? I’m sorry for just springing this on you—“

“NO!” Steve exclaims, finally snapped out of his trance. “I—I mean, Tim, of course not! I would never—of course I’m alright with it! You’re my best mate, and...” Steve trails off, considering if the next part is worth saying.

“...um, I’m actually the same.”

Tim’s head snaps up. “Sorry?”

It’s Steve’s turn to be vulnerable. “I... yeah. I like both, too.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Steve shrugs. “Why didn’t _you_?”

“Not important,” Tim brushes the question off. “I’m glad we both know this now, though, because this really helps add to my argument to convince you to pretend to be my boyfriend over Christmas.”

Steve nearly chokes on his coffee. Tim had never been one for subtlety.

“You—you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Figured it’d just be easier to tell you straight out,” Tim says. “Mum and Dad want to meet the boyfriend that I told them I had.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. “And you can’t tell them that you lied because...?”

“Because I don’t have the heart,” Tim replies. “I know, it’s ridiculous that I’ve even managed to get myself into this situation in the first place.”

Steve shakes his head. “Only you, Tim.”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs. “But, Steven Peter Devereux Smith, will you do me the honour of being my fake boyfriend over Christmas?”

Steve tries his best to ignore Tim’s puppy dog eyes, and the word ‘_fake_.’ “Your mum knows me. Would she believe it? What would we do afterwards? Pretend break-up and then go on like everything’s fine?”

“I guess,” Tim shrugs. “We can figure everything out later. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, Tim...”

Tim pouts and reaches across the table to grab Steve’s hand. “C’mon, Smudge. You’re the only person I could think to ask, plus, mum and dad love you, and I’d be glad to have you around home for a week! I’d pick you a thousand times over my next best option, who’s Matt Wade.” Steve has to stifle a smile at the look of disgust on Tim’s face. “Imagine pretend dating him. He’d probably spill paint everywhere, somehow.”

Steve snorts. “Imagine.”

Tim’s hand squeezes Steve’s tighter. “So? What do you reckon?”

_Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it, Steve. It’s a recipe for disaster. You’re already practically in love with him, this will only make it worse, it’ll be like subjecting yourself to torture because you know he doesn’t like you back—_

“Yeah,” Steve finds himself saying, eyes on Tim’s hand around his in the middle of the table. He likes the way their hands feel together. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

-

“So, I told him that I’d do it.”

Marnus’ eyes widen from his spot on Steve’s couch. “You didn’t.”

Steve puts his head in his hands. “I did. I’m an idiot, Marnus.”

Marnus grimaces. “You might be a bit of an idiot, Steve. You’re going to _pretend-date_ Tim? The guy you’ve practically been in love with for the last three years?” He sighs. “Yeah. You might be a bit of an idiot.”

Steve groans into his palms. “What the fuck was I thinking?”

Marnus is silent for a moment. “Well... how about we look on the bright side. You’ll get to be in Tassie for Christmas! I’ve heard the snow there is unreal for this time of year,” he tries. “And... oh! Tim’s family has a nice dog, don’t they? Maggie? You love her, right?”

Steve muffles a laugh with his hand. “They do have a nice dog. Miss her a bit, actually, since they moved back to Tassie. I’m surprised you even remember me telling you that.”

Marnus grins. “Mate, I remember almost everything. How do you think I maintain such great friendships?” He taps his forehead with his index finger and sends Steve a pointed look. “All in here, baby.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile. “You’re something else, Marn.”

“You love it,” Marnus grins, now sprawled across the couch. “And you didn’t let me finish my positives to the situation.”

“Oh?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, there was one more, believe it or not.” Marnus turns so that he’s laying on his stomach, facing Steve. “Maybe Tim invited you because he wanted an excuse to get closer to you.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe he likes you, too. Didn’t he say that there’s no one else he’d think to ask? That’s gotta mean something, right?”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, right. He said his next best option was Matt Wade, a guy he works with that apparently really struggles with keeping paint cans upright. You should have seen his face when he told me that Wade was his next best option.” Steve’s own face screws up at the memory. “Didn’t make me feel that special to know that he was second in line for the job.”

Marnus doesn’t do a very good job at disguising the disappointment on his face, but Steve appreciates the effort. “Oh. That’s a... shame.”

Steve buries his face in his hands yet again. “God, Marn, what did I get myself into?”

-

_From: Tim_

_Booked the flights tonight_

_Getting excited? ;)_

_No_, Steve thinks. _Not excited about the same things you’re excited for, anyway._

_From: Steve_

_Excited for the snow._

It’s not entirely a lie. He _does_ like snow.

It’s barely been three seconds since he sent the message before his phone lights up with Tim’s number and contact photo, making him jump. Steve takes a calming breath and waits for his heart rate to return to normal before answering.

“Hello?”

“The snow? What am I to you, chopped liver?”

Steve bites back a smile. “It doesn’t snow here in Sydney, Tim. Not all of us come from Tassie.”

“You’re using me to get to the snow, then.” Tim’s tone is playful.

“Damn, you figured me out. Who’s idea was this again?”

Tim laughs through the phone. The sound makes Steve’s insides warm. “Shoosh, you. I’ll replace you with Wade.”

“You do that, then. Let me know how it goes.”

Tim’s silent for a while before speaking again. “Nah. I wouldn’t. I’d rather you over him any day, Smudge.”

The words don’t mean what he wants them to mean, but Steve’s heart swells involuntarily anyway.

“Oh,” he murmurs, voice soft. “Thanks, T.”

“You’re very welcome,” Tim says, back to his normal charismatic self. “And as much as I’d like to continue to flatter you, I did actually call to go through some ideas.”

Steve tries not to be too disappointed. “Ideas?”

“Yeah. Obviously we’re not a couple, and we need to act like one, so we have to sort out what we’re comfortable with doing, you know?”

“Oh.”

“Some essentials I’ve come up with to ensure everything runs smoothly is the occasional hug and cheek kiss. Maybe holding hands. Does that... do they sound okay? Are you okay with doing those?”

Steve can barely believe his ears. He’s known about this plan for a week and he’s never once considered that they’ll actually have to _act_ like a couple. It’s all just been words up until now.

“I—am I okay with that?” His head is still in the clouds.

_Tim’s going to hug me, he’s going to kiss my cheek, he might even hold my hand... Oh, God, Steve, you moron, what have you done—_

“Listen, Smudge, if you don’t want to do this, it’s fine—“

“No, no, sorry,” Steve apologises. “I was just... off with the fairies. Long day at work,” he laughs weakly. Tim doesn’t need to know that today is his day off, and that he’s spent most of the day doing absolutely nothing of substance. Not important information.

“Oh. So... that’s all good? It’ll never go past anything like that, and we only have to do it in front of my parents.” Tim’s voice is soft; apprehensive.

Steve’s a lost cause. “Of course, Tim. No worries. Gotta do what you gotta do, right?”

There shuffling on the other end of the line before Tim’s voice comes through. “You’re the best, Smudger,” he says, and Steve can hear the grin in his voice. “The absolute best. I’ll work out specifics when we get there, but you’re great. I’m proud to call you my best friend.”

Steve grins. “I thought you said you were done with the flattering.”

“You love it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: tim's parents (and dog, who you'll see next chapter) are my own renditions, names included. i don't know how they are in real life. :)

Steve gasps as a snowball cannons into his cheek, sharp ice going everywhere as the ball explodes. He turns to Tim, eyes wide.

“You didn’t just do that,” he deadpans. “I haven’t even finished preparing my ammo yet!”

Tim shrugs, grin sly. “Oh, you hadn’t?” He says innocently before throwing another snowball, this one hitting Steve’s chest. “Whoops.”

Steve grits his jaw, staring Tim down. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Paine,” he says, voice low, before quickly scooping up his pile of snowballs and pegging them all at Tim.

Eventually, in a blur, he ends up on top of Tim, pinning him to the snow-covered ground with his last snowball raised over his head, the other hand resting next to Tim’s head.

Tim’s laughing, trying to fend Steve off with his knee. There’s snow in his hair, on his clothes, some on his cheek, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are bright and wild; a gleaming blue, there’s dimples poking out of both cheeks as he tilts his head back to laugh, and Steve’s lost all of his breath.

Tim’s stunning.

“Oh—okay, Smudge, I surrender, holy shit,” Tim gets out between laughs, hand coming up to grasp Steve’s shoulder. “Didn’t know you were that intent in taking me down.”

“You cheated!” Steve exclaims. “You can’t just start the war when one side hasn’t even finished preparing their weapons—“

“Hey,” Tim grins, cutting Steve’s rambling off. He uses the hand on Steve’s shoulder to pull him further down, so that their faces are inches apart, and places a gentle finger over Steve’s lips. “Hey, shh. You’re cute, but settle. I could make it up to you.”

Steve swallows, lips pressed against Tim’s finger. “M—make it up to me?”

Tim doesn’t answer, instead, his eyes lock onto Steve’s lips, and then he’s pulling Steve down, and his eyes flutter shut, and Steve’s heart is about to burst because it’s beating much too fast, and everything’s too fast, but Tim’s about to kiss him—

“...Hey...Steve...up...c’mon...Smudge, mate, wake _UP_!”

Steve slowly opens his eyes as he’s shaken awake by a firm hand on his shoulder, groaning when he realises it’s Tim. He nudges the hand off and rolls over, pulling his pillow over his head.

“Go away,” he mumbles, words muffled. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll be able to go back to sleep and finish the dream. Tim had stopped it at the best part.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Tim deadpans, trying to pry the pillow out of Steve’s death grip. “_Jesus_, you’ve got a lot of strength for someone who just woke up.”

Steve lets out a little whine when Tim finally manages to rip the pillow from him. “You’re awful. Can’t a man just sleep—“

“_No_, he can’t, because said man has to be at the airport in half an hour,” Tim cuts him off, pointedly staring down at Steve with his hands on his hips. “I tried to get you up earlier, but you just wouldn’t fucking stir. Almost thought you were dead at one point.”

Steve blinks. “I was having a good dream,” he mutters, before pushing himself up into a sitting position. “What’s the time now?”

“A really good dream, I assume,” Tim says with an eyebrow raised, before glancing down to check his watch. “Four thirty. Plane leaves for Tassie at six forty five. Chop chop, Smudger. We’ve got places to be.”

Steve lets out a resigned sigh as he slowly clambers out of bed, making his way past Tim to get to his suitcase. He’s on his way to the bathroom with his clothes in his arms before he turns around.

“For your information, it _was_ a really good dream,” he grumbles at Tim. “Good enough to make me want to keep sleeping.”

The corner of Tim’s mouth quirks up. “Well, we can’t always get what we want, now, can we?” He says, before walking over to Steve and pushing him gently towards the bathroom. “Go on. You’ll be able to sleep on the plane. I’ll even let you have the window seat. How’s that sound?”

Steve stares blankly at Tim for a moment before turning around. “Fantastic,” he mumbles as he walks into the bathroom, still half asleep.

-

Hours later, Steve’s awoken by a persistent finger poking at his cheek. He screws his face up, keeping his eyes closed and turning away from the irritation.

“Go away, Tim,” Steve mumbles, voice thick with sleep and barely audible over the hum of the plane engines. “‘M sleeping.”

Steve can almost _feel_ Tim’s eye roll from next to him. “Nice to see that you’re, yet again, thrilled by my existence,” he says, tone dry. “It’s time to wake up, we land soon. I’ve got a feeling you’ll like what’s outside the window, anyway.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows, blinking away the sleep in his eyes for the second time that morning. He stretches his arms and tilts his neck from side to side before turning his attention to the plane window. His eyes widen as he takes in the Tasmanian landscape; seemingly endless mountains coated in snow surrounding ice covered lakes. Everything’s white for as far as the eye can see, occasional green poking out underneath, and for a second Steve wonders if they’re even in Australia anymore. Did they get on the wrong flight? Surely this can’t be—

“So?” Tim’s voice cuts his unnecessary worrying off. “What do you reckon?”

“Are we... did we get on the right plane?” Steve blurts. “This is Tasmania?”

Tim lets out a fond laugh and leans over to look out the window himself, placing a firm hand on Steve’s thigh to steady himself. Steve sucks in a breath at the sudden unexpected action and tries his best to ignore the burning sensation it brings, switching his attention back to the view outside.

“Yeah, we’re on the right plane,” Tim says, eyes bright with admiration. He taps his fingers on Steve’s thigh. “Welcome to Tassie, Smudger.”

-

“Can’t believe I’m home after all this time,” Tim says happily as he retrieves their carry-on bags from the overhead compartment once they’ve landed. He passes Steve’s down carefully before slinging his own around his shoulders. They stand in their seats, waiting for the aisle to clear so that they can get off the plane. “It’s been so long.”

Steve gives him a small smile, adjusting his bag’s straps. “Exciting.”

“You’re gonna love it here, Smudge,” Tim grins over his shoulder as they start moving down the aisle. “It’s pretty incredible at this time of year.”

Steve nods, glancing out the window at the icy tarmac as they move. He’s glad he took Tim’s advice and wore warm clothes. He’d probably freeze to death in three seconds if he didn’t, and he feels like that would be an embarrassing way to go. He can picture the headlines now. _Man dies on Tasmanian airport tarmac after wearing shorts instead of jeans._

Steve cringes slightly as they step out of the plane and into the tunnel, crisp cold air hitting him almost immediately. He’s warm in his hoodie, warm enough, but maybe he could have done more. What if he gets outside and it’s sub-zero? He glances around worriedly. No one else in the general vicinity seems to be overly dressed to compensate for the weather, which relaxes him a little, but maybe he should have thrown in a beanie for good measure—

A warm hand slots into his, squeezing comfortingly. “Hey,” Tim says, pulling Steve forward gently so that they’re walking together. “Stop worrying. You’ll be warm enough, trust me. If you’re not, you can have some of my stuff.”

Steve frowns, glancing down at their joined hands briefly. In the back of his mind, he notes that Tim’s hand is the perfect size to fit in his, almost like they were meant to go together.

“How did you—“

“Been your best friend for over ten years, mate, pretty sure I can read your mind at this point,” Tim grins.

_Well, I’m glad you can’t_, Steve shoots back, but he nods at Tim.

“Makes sense.”

They continue walking to the baggage collection area, Tim’s hand still slotted in Steve’s. It stays there while they collect their bags, Tim manoeuvring in ways he shouldn’t have to in order to keep his hand there. Steve almost feels special for a moment, warmed by the comforting action and how _well_ their hands go together, as well as just how easily Tim can stop him from incessantly worrying, and then Tim turns around, and he’s rudely ripped back to reality.

“Ready to go, _boyfriend_?” Tim lifts their joined hands and grins.

Oh. _Right_.

Steve forces up a smile. “Y—yeah,” he says, cringing inwardly at the crack. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

-

“_Steve Smith_?” Tim’s mum, Anne, exclaims with wide eyes as he and Tim approach her. She rushes forward, brushing past Tim and throwing her arms around Steve, pulling him into a tight hug. Steve lets out a laugh, letting go of Tim’s hand and gently placing his arms around her back.

“Hi, Anne.”

Anne pulls back but keeps her hands on Steve’s shoulders, smile wide and eyes soft. “Oh, darling, it’s been so long! How have you been? What have you been up to? I—“

“_Wow_, alright, nice to see you too, mum,” Tim says, but the expression on his face is fond.

Anne rolls her eyes and turns to give her son a hug, pulling him in close. “Sorry, Timothy. It’s lovely to have you back,” she says, before pulling away and shooting him a disapproving look.

Tim throws his hands up in mock defence. “_What_?! What’ve I done to—“

“Why didn’t you tell me it was Steve that you were dating?” She asks, hands on her hips. “I mean, I could have guessed with how much you talk about him, but—“

“Al—_right_, mum!” Tim laughs wearily, avoiding Steve’s eyes. “That’s enough! We should probably get going anyway,” he says, giving her a pointed look and grabbing his suitcase, slowly walking forward. “You got everything, Smudge?”

Steve blinks, still trying to process Anne’s words. “Uh, yeah,” he manages, falling into step next to Tim, Anne on his other side.

“Don’t listen to her,” Tim whispers to him on their way out to the car. He grins a little. “She does this all the time. Hellbent on embarrassing me, I swear.”

Steve shrugs. “So, you don’t gush about me all the time, then?” He asks with a tiny smile.

He gets a little shove as they reach the car, which makes his smile widen.

“Keep dreaming.”

-

The ride to Tim’s place is pleasant. Steve takes the back seat, happy to let Tim and Anne catch up on all that they’d missed in favour of admiring the winter wonderland outside. He’s been to Tasmania once; years ago when he’d come to visit Tim as a teenager, but that had been in March, and it hadn’t looked anything like what it does now.

“Do you usually get this much snow around this time of year?” Steve asks after a while, when there’s a break in conversation.

“Yes, occasionally,” Anne replies. “Although this year we’re due to get a bit more than usual. There’s actually a few snow storms forecasted, but I think you two should be back in Sydney by the time they hit after Christmas.”

“Guess we’ll just have to stay longer if they come early,” Tim adds cheekily. “Although I’d be absolutely _devastated_ to miss work, and all the wonderful people there.”

Steve snorts from the back seat, eyes still on the snow outside. “Sure you would.”

“Oi,” Tim says, turning in his seat to face Steve with a grin. “You think I’m lying?”

“Never.” Steve struggles to hold back a smile of his own, eyes flicking to Tim’s.

“Good,” Tim says. “Because I’d absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt, miss everyone and everything there—“

“Even the spilled paint?” Steve can’t help adding. “What about Matt Wade? Oh! What about Starcy when he’s in a bad mood—“

“If I was back there, Steven, you’d be in all sorts right now,” Tim cuts him off in a threatening tone, but the wide smile on his face cancels it out. “I can’t believe you’d ever doubt me.”

“Shocking, isn’t it.” Steve rolls his eyes and rests his gaze back on the snowy trees outside, biting back a grin and shaking his head.

As their playful bickering continues, Steve misses the fond look Anne gives them both through the rear view mirror, eyes soft and smile small.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve grins as the Paine’s Bernese Mountain Dog, Maggie, comes bounding up to him as soon as Anne unlocks the door. She’s a big dog, probably at least thirty kilos, but she’s a big softie, and Steve’s heart melts as she leans up against his legs while he scratches behind her ears.

“Hey, Maggie,” he murmurs. “Been a while.”

“Knew she’d still love you,” Tim’s voice comes from the door. “It only makes sense. Everyone does.”

Steve doesn’t reply, he just keeps his head low and distracts himself with patting Maggie to hide his blush.

“Do you want to take your bags upstairs, Tim? I’ve made your bed up with fresh sheets so it’s nice for you and Steve,” Anne says as she comes through the front door, closing it behind her.

Steve’s hands still abruptly on Maggie, breath hitching. He hadn’t considered the fact that, yeah, he and Tim are supposed to be dating, of course Anne would expect them to share a bed. He wonders if Tim had considered it at all, either.

“You didn’t make up the spare bed?” Tim asks automatically, opening the fridge to put his water bottle inside.

Anne shoots Tim a funny look. “Of course I didn’t. I figured that you and Steve would be happy to share.”

Steve watches Tim freeze for a split second before he gathers himself, looking up to Anne and plastering a fake smile onto his face. “Oh,” he laughs half heartedly, slowly closing the fridge. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m so used to Smudge being here as a friend that I completely forgot.”

Steve shrugs to himself. It’s a believable excuse.

Anne smiles and shakes her head. “That’d be my son,” she sighs, walking over and ruffling his hair. Tim scrunches up his face at the action and Steve has to hide his smile.

“Mum, stop.” The corner of Tim’s mouth rises up as he sidesteps away from her and grabs his suitcase. He gestures to Steve. “C’mon, Smudge. We’ll get you settled.”

Steve follows Tim up the stairs, dragging his suitcase behind him. Tim’s room is the first on the left, and it’s pretty much how Steve remembers it. There’s a wooden desk tucked into a corner, a bookcase in another one, and a shelf holding all of Tim’s old cricketing awards on the wall. A large floor-to-roof window provides a stunning view of the snowy mountains in the distance outside, and allows the room to be naturally lit by the sun, and pressed up against the window is a double bed.

A bed that Steve and Tim are supposed to be sharing.

He supposes that they should talk about that.

“So, uh—“

At the same time, Tim says, “Steve, I didn’t—“

Steve bites down on his lip and glances out the window. “You go.”

Tim walks over to the bed and sits down, leaning back on his hands. Steve determinedly ignores how inviting the pose is; ignores his brain telling him how easy it would be to just walk over and situate himself between Tim’s legs and then maybe lean down—

Steve bites his lip harder and focuses on the mountains outside.

_Yeah, we definitely won’t be doing that._

“Sorry, Smudge. I didn’t even think about the whole bed situation,” Tim apologises. “I don’t really know what we can do to avoid it. The spare room’s down the hall, I’m not sure you could sleep in there without mum knowing, but I could try and dig a mattress out from somewhere.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s too much effort, plus it’ll be sus if your mum walks in and sees a mattress on the floor,” he says. “Maybe I could go out and find somewhere that sells sleeping bags. That’d be easier to hide, I guess.”

He wouldn’t actually mind sharing a bed with Tim, but he doesn’t dare make that known. He figures a sleeping bag is his next best bet, anyway.

“If you want,” Tim shrugs. “I’ll take you out into town later and we can get one. You might get a little cold, though.”

Steve turns and leans against the window, shooting Tim a smile. “I’ll just have to steal some of your blankets, then.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” Tim raises an eyebrow. “I guess I could allow that.”

Steve grins. “Honoured.”

-

Tim watches Steve chat freely with his parents from his spot on the opposite couch, where he’s curled up with Maggie. It’s late in the evening and he and Steve had been into town; Steve had picked up a sleeping bag and they’d bought some more Christmas lights on his mother’s request. They’d had dinner when they’d arrived back, Anne’s classic stir fry, and Tim’s father, Greg, had reunited with himself and Steve when he’d returned from work.

Now, everyone is sitting in the living room, sipping on hot chocolate and talking about anything and everything. Well, everyone bar Tim. He’s content to just sit back and listen, the early wake up finally taking it’s toll on him. He muffles a yawn and glances down to stroke Maggie’s back, smiling tiredly when she stirs a little next to him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and then his eyes start to flutter shut. His breathing regulates, and he’s almost slipped under when he feels the couch dip next to him.

“T,” Steve’s voice whispers, and Tim slowly opens his eyes.

“Mm?” He shifts a little, pressing further into the couch.

Steve muffles a yawn of his own before reaching down to brush some stray hair off Tim’s forehead. “Your parents have gone to bed. Think it’s time for us to go, too,” he says softly.

Tim lets his eyes close once again, soothed by Steve’s hand in his hair and the dog curled up against him. He lets out a quiet sigh. “Should carry me,” he murmurs.

“Should... carry you?” Steve repeats.

“Mm.”

There’s silence for a moment before Tim hears shuffling, and then there’s an arm under his knees and another curling around his waist. He lets out a content sound and buries his head into Steve’s shoulder, keeping his eyes closed.

“Sorry, Maggie,” Tim hears Steve murmur, before he’s being carried up to his room. Steve’s warm, and soft, and his arms are secure, and Tim would be happy to just fall asleep, like this, pressed against Steve’s chest. If he had enough energy, he’d try to convince Steve to ditch the sleeping bag and curl up in bed with him, but he’s not sure that he can stay awake for long enough to do that.

Eventually, somehow, Tim ends up under the blankets in his bed. He murmurs a barely coherent ‘_thank you_,’ to Steve, reaching out to squeeze his wrist in gratitude before he’s out like a light, sleep washing over him like a tidal wave.

Tim dreams of himself and Steve curled around his fireplace with hot chocolates, completely wrapped up in what the other is saying. He rests with a warm, steady-beating heart as they relive memories together in their dream, legs tangled together, but then Steve starts talking about a _Marnus_, and the atmosphere is shattered as Tim hurriedly tries to keep up with everything that _Marnus_ had done in the last couple of months to make Steve laugh.

Tim doesn’t know a Marnus.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve wakes before Tim the next morning, too early. He sighs and tightens his sleeping bag around him, burying his face into the pillow. He hadn’t slept well at all. Marnus had called him after he’d carried Tim to bed, and Steve had copped light abuse for not letting him know he’d arrived safely, like he’d promised. Steve had apologised, and then he and Marnus had chatted for hours about nonsense; the conversation topics had no substance, but they had allowed him to forget about the feeling of Tim’s lips resting against his neck, and that was good enough for Steve.

Marnus had let him go around midnight, and it was around then that he’d realised just how fucking cold Tassie nights are, and that sleeping on a wooden floor wouldn’t help his efforts to gain warmth. At _all_.

He’d tossed and turned in his sleeping bag for what had seemed like eternity, desperately searching for a position that would grant him any kind of warmth. Every now and then, he would hear the scrunching of sheets or little exhales as Tim would shift in his sleep, and Steve would determinedly not think about how warm and comfortable it probably was in that double bed, or how easy it would be to just get up and curl himself around Tim.

He’d brushed away the thought almost as soon as it had arrived, chalking it up to being delirious from a lack of sleep. Steve had squeezed his eyes shut and continued to try different positions for another hour before he’d eventually dipped under, the sweet release of sleep finally overcoming him, only to wake up less than two hours later.

He groans pathetically into his pillow. He’s still freezing cold, teeth chattering and whole body shivering, so he pulls himself up out of his sleeping bag and rolls it up, placing it in Tim’s cupboard and slowly making his way downstairs.

No one else is up yet; it’s much too early, so Steve pads over to the couch, grabbing a blanket and pulling a book he thinks he’ll find interesting off the shelf before sinking into the fabric. The heat from the fireplace combined with the warmth the blanket provides is heavenly, and Steve’s eyes droop before he’s even completed the first chapter of his book.

-

Tim is stirred awake by the morning light peeking through his blinds and onto his face. He lets out a soft yawn, stretching his arms and neck to remove the crinks before settling back into his pillows. He’d slept well, _so_ well, and he’d needed it after hardly getting any yesterday. His dreams had been decent; although now that he’s awake, he still has no idea who _Marnus_ is, or why the thought of the name brings about a small pang of jealously in his chest.

He chooses to ignore the part of the dream that had included Steve, especially the part where their legs had been tangled together, and the warm feeling that had brought about in his chest. Tim hadn’t dreamt about anyone in that way for a while, and he’s not sure why it’s happening with Steve all of a sudden.

He shrugs to himself. Strange.

He climbs out of bed and throws some warm clothes on; a shirt and some track pants, before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, everyone!” He calls, smiling when he smells pancakes cooking on the stove. “How did we all sleep—“

“Tim! Shh,” his mum shoots him a pointed look, and Tim throws up his hands in mock surrender.

“What’ve I done now?”

Anne smiles apologetically and walks over, pulling Tim into a soft side hug. “I’m sorry. Nothing. Good morning, we slept well. I just wanted you to be quiet... well, because,” she gestures to the living room, “Steve’s asleep in there.”

Tim frowns. “He’s asleep?”

Anne nods. “Is... is everything okay? Between you two?”

“Yeah, things are great,” Tim replies distractedly, stepping out of his mum’s grip and into the living room.

Steve’s curled up with a blanket on the couch, open book sprawled across his lap. His mouth is open slightly and his golden hair is falling over his forehead, and the blanket rises and falls with his chest as he breathes in a rhythm, completely lost to the world.

Tim doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look so peaceful before. His eyes stay glued to Steve as he leans up against the doorframe, taking in his features, and he’s overcome with the sudden foreign urge to walk over and brush the hair off Steve’s face, and then maybe press a kiss to his forehead.

So he does.

He walks over and kneels down, gently cupping Steve’s jaw in a manner that won’t wake him. He brushes the wayward hair back and leans in, pressing a soft, feather-light kiss to his skin before pulling back to admire the man in front of him.

Tim’s heart is pounding, and he’s not entirely sure of what he’s doing, or what he’s just done, or why he’s doing it, and he’s a little unnerved, but it doesn’t feel wrong.

He’s not so convinced that it feels right, either.

“You really love him, don’t you?” His mother’s soft voice comes from behind him, and Tim, snapped back to reality, quickly removes his hand from where it was curled around Steve’s jaw. His skin feels like it’s been burnt, and he’s panicking a little now, pulse rising, because he _knows_ that it wasn’t an act to convince anyone of anything. He’d done that himself, almost on autopilot, and he’d _wanted_ to.

Tim swallows, slowly standing up and backing away from the couch. “Oh... yeah, I guess,” he says, voice weak. He doesn’t love Steve. He hasn’t loved anyone for a while, and his best friend certainly won’t be the one to break that streak.

“I always knew, you know,” Anne continues, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on Tim’s shoulder. “They way you used to look at him. It was... different to everyone else.”

Tim sucks in a sharp breath, tearing his eyes away from Steve, and he’s in full panic mode now, because where is this coming from? He’s not in love with Steve, he’s _never_ been in love with Steve. His mother doesn’t know what she’s on about—

“I’m glad it’s him, Tim,” she keeps going, and Tim’s got to get out of here before his chest explodes. It’s too much, and it’s terrifying, because he’s _not in love with Steve_. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to regulate his heartbeat whilst blocking out her words.

_I’m not in love with him, I’m not in love with him, I’m not in love with anyone_—

“Ah, Tim, mate, you’re up,” Greg’s voice enters the living room, and Tim’s eyes fly open. He has to physically hold back from throwing himself into his father’s arms in gratitude, instead choosing to lean back against the wall and let out a deep breath.

“Hey, dad.”

Greg smiles. “Want to come and help me with putting some Chrissy lights up? Heard you and Steve got new ones yesterday.”

Tim could not agree fast enough, ecstatic for an excuse to escape.

-

“Oh, that smells really good,” Steve says when he emerges from the living room hours later, breathing in the scent of fresh pancakes.

Tim glances up at him from his phone, mouth corners quirking up. “Afternoon.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Afternoon?” He repeats.

“It’s after lunch, darling,” Anne tells him, a soft smile on her face. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

_Slept like arse_, Steve thinks immediately, but he says, “Yeah, must have just been extra drained from yesterday’s early start,” and that seems to be enough to convince everyone.

Tim gets up from his seat and slides an arm around Steve’s waist, leaning in to place a hesitant kiss to his cheek before pulling back. “I thought that we might head into town soon and have a look around, after you eat something, of course,” he says.

Steve can only nod in response, too distracted by the hand toying at the hem of his shirt.

“Cool,” Tim adds, before leaning in to whisper, “_I know you didn’t sleep well last night._” He shoots Steve a pointed look before pulling away. “I’m gonna head upstairs and put on some warmer clothes. Eat up,” and then he’s gone.

Steve takes a steady breath, calming himself before settling down at the bench.

“So, pancakes?”

-

“Tassie’s a whole different world to Sydney, isn’t it,” Steve states, glancing at Tim as they stroll through the Hobart CBD. There’s people everywhere around them; Christmas shopping, admiring the town, out to eat. The town is decorated for Christmas, tinsel and the occasional tree in shopfronts. Lights are strung up along the buildings and around lightposts, just barely beginning to shine as the sun slowly dips below the horizon.

They’ve been out for a while. Tim’s shown Steve all the places he used to go to when he was younger; told him all the different stories behind each new place that they’d been to. Steve had been genuinely interested, taking in everything with a soft smile and cracking the occasional joke, and the tension Tim had developed that morning had slowly seeped out of his shoulders the longer their outing continued. Soon, he’d returned to his normal, outgoing self, and he’d remembered why he’d asked Steve to stay with him over Christmas in the first place - he’s his best mate, and he thoroughly enjoys his company. Being himself comes easily when he’s with Steve.

(He chalks up the events of the morning to his mind being clouded with sleep. He didn’t know what he was doing then, still doesn’t know now. He’ll leave it at that.)

Tim throws a boyish arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in a little closer. “You like it?”

Steve shrugs, mouth flicking up at the corner. “S’alright.”

“Stop lying, I know you love it,” Tim says, moving his hand up to ruffle Steve’s hair. “You’d stay here forever if you could.”

“_You_ would,” Steve points out, nudging Tim a little.

Tim sighs wistfully. “Yeah, I would. More opportunities in Sydney though, I guess.”

They’re silent after that as they continue to walk through the town, slowly making their way towards the lake - Tim’s last stop of the evening. It’s a nice spot to just sit and admire everything going on, to maybe have a bit of a chat. Tim thinks it’s a good place to end their evening out.

“I like having you in Sydney, with me,” Steve murmurs, unexpectedly, and it’s so quiet that Tim almost misses it. “It’s been so much better since you came up.”

Tim tries to ignore the unwelcome warmth in his chest, focusing his eyes intently on the couple walking in front of them.

“Oh?” He feels like a bit of a dick, but he can’t think of anything else to say.

Steve bites down on his lip and glances at the ground, regret flashing in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, and then he’s sliding out from under Tim’s arm as they reach the lake. “This is where you wanted to go?”

Tim nods, letting his arm fall to his side. “I thought that we could—“

He’s interrupted by Steve’s ringtone, loud and obnoxious against the calm of the frozen lake. Steve shoots him an apologetic look before he fishes it out of his pocket, and Tim doesn’t miss the way Steve’s whole body relaxes as he takes in the contact photo flashing on the screen.

“Marnus,” Steve says, and Tim’s chest becomes strangely tight. He dismisses the feeling and raises an eyebrow for further explanation.

“Friend,” Steve continues. “You don’t mind if I take this, do you? I — he’s very particular with the fact that I keep him updated—“

“Oh, no, go ahead,” Tim says, voice dryer than what he’d envisioned. He waves a dismissive hand, sinking down onto the grass underneath them. “This was the last place I wanted to take you, anyway.”

Steve smiles at him gratefully before answering, taking a few steps forward and sitting down in front of Tim, closer to the lake. Tim’s eyes stay on the back of his head; he watches as he laughs effortlessly, watches as he visibly loosens up the longer he talks to _Marnus_, and eventually, Tim has to look away. He chooses to focus on the people ice skating across the frozen lake - families, couples and teenagers - and swallows down the unpleasant, unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest.

He doesn’t know how _Marnus_ had worked his way into his dream, because Steve had never mentioned him.

-

“So...” Tim starts on their walk back home, voice cutting through the awkward silence that had remained since Steve’s slip up. He cringes to himself as he thinks back to it, keeping his head down. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, but he couldn’t help it. Things _had_ been better since Tim had arrived in Sydney, and he’d wanted Tim to know. Of course, he hadn’t reacted in the way Steve had hoped, and he had made sure to profusely thank Marnus when he had called and saved him from explaining himself further.

“...Marnus?” Tim’s voice cuts back into his thoughts, and Steve blinks.

“Sorry?”

Tim glances at him briefly before his eyes flick away. “I was just — you’ve never told me about this Marnus.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “He’s just... Marnus, I guess. There’s not been much to tell you.”

Tim nods to himself and they continue to walk in silence until they’re almost back at the Paine’s, down the very end of the street.

“He’s a friend, then?”

Steve shrugs, unsure why Tim’s so interested. “Yeah. Met him at work when he started a few months ago. He’s uh, a character, that’s for sure,” he says, shaking his head fondly. “Always knows how to put a smile on my face.”

Tim’s lips go thin for a fraction of a second before he forces a smile. “Ah. I see.”

“Yeah, he called last night, actually,” Steve continues, and he wants to say more, but his eyes fall on the Christmas lights decorating the house in front of him. They’re amazing; they flow up the walls, across the roof, they’re threaded through the trees and bushes, flashing in all different colours and patterns, and then Steve realises that it’s the _Paine’s_ house he’s looking at, and that Tim had vaguely mentioned putting a few up with Greg earlier.

“You did that?” Steve asks, Marnus completely forgotten. Tim nods.

“I did.”

“It’s incredible!” Steve gushes. “How long did it take you?”

“Couple hours,” Tim says nonchalantly, but Steve can see the tiny smile. “Dad does it every year. Prides himself on it. Thought I’d lend him a hand.”

Steve smiles, stepping in closer to nudge Tim’s shoulder. “You did a good job. If I hadn’t been asleep, I would have loved to help.”

Tim nudges him back. “If it makes you feel any better, we’ve still got to put up the tree. I’ll even let you put the star on top, to make you feel extra special,” he teases.

Steve shakes his head, biting back a grin. “Hate you, T.”

“You love me, Smudge.”

-

Steve has such a good night with Tim and his family, lounging around the fire and sipping on hot chocolate, that he almost forgets about having to freeze to near death for the second night in a row.

Almost.

He goes to the trouble of throwing on two extra layers, as well as two pairs of socks; and he even steals one of Tim’s beanies. He contemplates wearing gloves, maybe a scarf, but decides that it’s overkill. He figures that Tim would call him out immediately, anyway.

“You’re _sure_ you’re comfortable down there?” Tim asks when they’re both settled, hand hovering over the switch to his bedside lamp.

_Absolutely not_. “Yeah.”

Tim shrugs. “If you say so,” and then the room is plunged into darkness, and the nightmare begins once again.

Steve’s almost jealous of how fast Tim falls asleep; able to hear his steady breathing no less than five minutes after his head had hit the pillow. He can already feel the coolness of the wooden floor seeping into his sleeping bag and through his seemingly endless layers, and he immediately knows that this is a lost cause. He’ll just have to accept the fact that he’s getting no sleep for the next week.

Steve plays around on his phone for a while; until he gets bored of solitaire. He moves on to naming a location in Australia for each letter of the alphabet, followed by trying to memorise all the countries of Africa; both halfhearted attempts at distracting himself from his whole body shivering.

They work for a while, but eventually it gets too much, and Steve sits up, having had enough. He climbs out of his sleeping bag, grabbing his phone and padding out of Tim’s room as quietly as he can in an effort to not wake him. He heads down the stairs and back to his spot on the couch in front of the fire, grabbing the same blanket from earlier.

He’s out like a light before he’s even situated himself properly on the couch.

“Steve,” a voice whispers, and there’s a gentle shove to his shoulder.

“_Steve_.”

“Mm?” Steve lets out a little strained groan, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“What are you doing out here?” Tim hisses. “If mum comes down and sees you she’ll know something’s up.”

Steve looks up at Tim helplessly, still fighting the immense urge to close his eyes. “Cold.”

Tim stares at him in silence, arms crossed, before rolling his eyes lightheartedly. “Why didn’t you say anything when I asked?”

Steve swallows. “Didn’t want to be a pain.”

The fire crackles in front of them. “You’d never be a pain to me,” Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair. “C’mon. Come to bed.”

Steve stills. “Bed?”

“Yeah. Bed.”

“Tim, I don’t need to—“

“You’re getting into that bed with me whether you like it or not,” Tim interrupts, staring him down. “I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

Steve averts his gaze. “Honestly, Tim, it’s fine. The sleeping bag isn’t that bad, I’ll just—“

“Will you be _quiet_?” Tim almost groans, pinching his brow. “It’s too late for this. I know you got no sleep last night, and you’ll continue to get none if you persist with the sleeping bag. I’m not going to have you freeze to death in my house when there’s a perfectly good double bed sitting upstairs. Now, will you come to bed? _Please_?”

Steve sinks back into the couch, defeated. He knows he’s basically writing himself a death sentence; allowing himself to share a bed with Tim, but, fuck, at least he’ll be warm while he suffers.

“Carry me?” He relents, and Tim sighs.

“If it’s the only way I can get you up there, then fine,” he says, and then scoops Steve up in his arms. “Suppose I should return the favour from last night, too.”

Tim sits Steve carefully down on the bed once he gets up the stairs, and Steve removes his extra layers, knowing he’ll get too warm if he keeps it all on. Although, he’s not even sure there’s any such thing as being _too warm_ currently. All he knows is cold.

“You going to get in?” Tim’s tired voice comes from behind him, breaking him out of his little trance. Steve lets out a yawn and settles into the bed, being sure to keep as much distance between himself and Tim as possible and revelling in the feeling of sinking into a soft, warm mattress.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, sending Tim a grateful look. “‘M sorry for being an idiot.”

Tim huffs a laugh, reaching his hand up to flick off the light. “It’s okay. You’re here now,” is all he says before they’re in darkness once again. “G’night, Steve.”

He doesn’t get a worded reply, instead a soft snore, and Tim follows soon after with the tiniest of smiles gracing his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

Tim wakes the next morning with an arm curled around his waist and a sturdy, warm chest pressed against his back.

A content sigh escapes his lips and he lets his eyes close again, pressing back into the weight. It’s been so long since he’d been held like this, and it’s comforting - he feels safe and secure with the steady arm around his waist, fingers softly brushing the skin of his hip under his shirt—

His eyes shoot open as he realises that it’s _Steve_ he’s curled up with, heart rate beginning to rise. Tim had almost forgotten that he’d convinced Steve to sleep in the bed late the previous night, probably while he was half asleep himself.

Tim sucks in a breath as Steve shifts behind him, and then there’s a pair of lips resting idly against his neck. The arm around his waist tightens, and Tim is reminded of a few nights back, when Steve had carried him to bed, and just how comfortable he’d been in his arms. The thought terrifies him, because _what the fuck, Tim, he’s your best friend_, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his erratic heartbeat and pleading for the sweet release of sleep to take over once again.

Surprisingly, despite the soft lips pressed against the back of his neck, Tim’s efforts are almost successful. He’s managed to return his heartbeat back to a normal pace, just beginning to doze off when Steve exhales, shifting awake behind him.

Steve’s stationary for a moment, still in the process of waking up, and then the arm around Tim’s waist tenses.

“Oh... shit...” Steve mutters, voice thick with sleep. He slowly unthreads his arm from around Tim before shuffling backwards, putting a safe amount of distance between them. Tim stays still; resolutely ignoring the unwanted sense of longing he’s overcome with at the loss of contact, and wonders if he should do something to let Steve know that he’s awake.

A defeated sigh comes from the other side of the bed and then he can feel Steve getting up. Tim slowly rolls over and cracks open an eye, watching Steve as he crouches down at his suitcase. He finds himself unconsciously admiring the messy bed hair, the way Steve’s shirt hugs his tensed, broad shoulders, and Tim sits up a little, leaning on his elbow.

“Hey.”

Steve jumps at Tim’s voice and take a second to steady himself, turning around with a hand over his heart.

“Thought you were asleep, T. You scared the shit out of me,” he breathes out an anxious laugh.

Tim lifts the corner of his mouth up. “Sorry.”

Steve glances at him, eyes studying his face carefully, and Tim can tell that he wants to address the situation. He opens his mouth to begin speaking and then quickly closes it; changing his mind. He shakes his head slightly and turns back around.

Tim won’t acknowledge that he’s almost disappointed as he leans back down into the pillows, a spark of uneasiness travelling down his spine.

“Any plans for today?” Steve ends up asking instead, digging around in his suitcase for a change of clothes.

“No,” Tim sighs, spirits dampened. “Unless there was anything you wanted to do?”

Steve shrugs, standing up with his clothes gathered in his arms. “What time does that lake we went to yesterday open for ice skating?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “You want to go ice skating?”

“Well, I — I’ve never been, before,” Steve explains. “It looked like a lot of fun, judging from what we saw yesterday. And what better time to try it than at Christmas, right?”

Tim lets a little smile slip. “Yeah, I suppose so,” he says. “The lake’s open all day, but dark is the best time to go if you want the full ‘_Christmas ice skating_’ experience.”

Steve nods. “When I was talking to Marnus, yesterday, he said that night was the way to do it.” He grins to himself. “He’s wanted to take me pretty much since the day I met him. An _ice skating prodigy_, he calls himself. He’ll be filthy when I tell him that I’m going with you.”

The chest-tightening feeling is back, and Tim swallows down an irrational bout of jealousy rising in his throat. “Well, I consider myself a decent teacher, too,” he almost snaps, and Steve shoots him a weird look.

_Where did that come from_?

“Yeah?”

Tim nods slowly, and he’s more careful when he says, “You’ll be in good hands, I promise.”

Steve’s eyes soften. “You’re a bit of a prodigy yourself, are you?”

“Maybe,” Tim grins, glad to be rid of the awkward tension. “As long as you don’t break any ankles, you’ll be fine.”

“Can’t promise anything,” Steve replies, and then he’s walking to the bathroom to get dressed.

-

“How do you even do these up? Nothing here makes any sense whatsoever...”

Tim rolls his eyes, bending down to tie the laces of Steve’s ice skates up himself. “There. Easy,” he says when he’s done, taking a step back to eye Steve off. “Step one complete.”

Steve shrugs sheepishly. “I assume the teacher always helps new students with step one?”

“_Special_ students,” Tim clarifies, biting back a smile when Steve’s cheeks heat. He offers a hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you out there.”

The night air is cool and nippy as they navigate their way through crowds of people, hand in hand. Tim had made sure they’d rugged up adequately before they’d left; both in warm jackets and beanies. There’s fairy lights strung up around the perimeter of the lake, in the trees and bushes, and there’s a large Christmas tree situated right in the center, decorated right to the very top with silver tinsel.

“This Christmassy enough for you?” Tim jokes as they get closer, tightening his grip on his hand when Steve almost overbalances. “Mate, we’re not even on the ice yet.”

Steve shoots Tim a glare, gripping his shoulder for extra stability. “Stop judging me.”

“‘M not,” Tim laughs. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, too.”

Steve raises an eyebrow as they reach the ice. “Should I really be trusting you as my teacher, then?”

“Don’t think you’ve got much choice,” Tim replies, moving his hands to grip both of Steve’s shoulders. “Now, whatever you do, don’t lean back,” a hand moves to rest in the small of Steve’s back, “which I have no doubt that you’ll do, anyway, so I’ll be here to catch you.”

He guides Steve gently onto the ice, helping him keep his balance as he settles.

“_What_, you’re just assuming that I’ll—“ Steve cuts himself off as he slips, letting out a little squeak, hands racing up to grip Tim’s jacket tightly in order to stabilise himself. “—fall?” He finishes, taking a second to catch his breath after the near miss.

Tim can’t help the laugh. “Nah,” he teases, guiding Steve forward. “Never.”

He teaches Steve the basics over the next half hour; how to keep balance, the right way to angle the skates to move forward, how to turn. Tim spends most of that time pressed into Steve’s side, hand remaining in the small of his back. _It’s for steadiness_, he keeps telling himself, even as Steve starts to get the hang of it.

Tim keeps the hand there anyway. Something in him doesn’t want to remove it.

“Look at you,” Tim says when Steve detaches from his side and skates a few metres forward. “You’re a natural.”

Steve beams, skating wobbly back over to Tim and taking his hands in his own to balance himself. “You think?”

“I _know_,” Tim replies, squeezing his hands. He ignores the way Steve’s blue eyes shine under the lights.

“Wait till I tell Marnus,” Steve grins, and _there it is_. The moment is shattered, and Tim slowly drops Steve’s hands, sliding his own into his coat pockets.

“Yeah.” His voice is flat.

“He’ll love it,” Steve continues, not seeming to notice Tim’s sudden change in mood. “Actually, would you be able to,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, “take a photo of me? To send to him?”

“Sure can,” Tim says, tight lipped. He gets Steve to pose and takes the photo, and wonders why he’s so ticked about this in the process. Steve’s allowed to have other friends, and he’s allowed to want to update said friends about his trip away.

Although, with the way that Steve gushes about _Marnus_, Tim’s not entirely convinced that he’s just a friend.

Tim doesn’t know why he even cares in the first place.

“Thank you,” Steve says, skating back over to retrieve his phone. Tim pulls himself out of his head and offers the phone out, distantly noting that Steve’s travelling just a _little_ faster than what’s necessarily appropriate.

He’s crashing to the ice within the next few seconds, back pressed into the cool surface and arms full of a certain Steve Smith. Steve ends up on top of him, just managing to break his fall with his arms before their foreheads clash together. Their legs tangle, and Tim’s hands automatically move up to curl loosely around Steve’s hips.

“Was just thinking that you were going a little quick,” Tim says to break the awkward silence, managing a grin. He removes a hand to feel around the ice for Steve’s phone, relieved when his fingers curl around the familiar shape. He inspects it for any damage before holding it up to Steve.

“Well, your phone’s alright...” he says, voice trailing off as he takes in the expression on Steve’s face. There’s golden hair poking out from under his (Tim’s) beanie, his blue eyes are blown as they linger on Tim’s face, and his lips, chapped from the cold, are parted slightly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as his eyes are drawn downwards. Tim realises, in alarm, that Steve’s staring at his mouth.

There’s people moving all around them; skating in all different directions, but they’re almost a blur to Tim, vision only focused on the man on top of him, and just how, well, _beautiful_, he looks with the starry night sky above him. He sucks in a breath, fingers unconsciously tightening on Steve’s hip. If Tim were to push himself up, even in the slightest, they would be kissing, and—

Tim jolts up suddenly, knocking Steve onto the ice in the process. His heart is pounding, there’s blood rushing in his ears, and he needs to get away. _Right now_.

“Uh, phone. Here,” Tim gets out, looking everywhere but at Steve as he holds the phone out for him. Their fingers brush together as Steve hesitantly takes it and Tim’s heart flips in his chest, cheeks heating. He draws his hand back quickly, _too_ quickly, and then he’s scrambling into an upright position, barely managing to stay on his feet on the slippery surface.

“I — um, I’m going to do a couple of laps,” he says when he stands, gesturing hopelessly to the lake around them. Tim can feel his heart hammering against his rib cage and he’s a bit light headed, sensations that are only heightened when he takes in the hurt flashing across Steve’s features.

“Laps?” He repeats, and his voice is quiet. “What, by yourself?”

Tim nods, not trusting his voice.

“Oh,” Steve murmurs, and then he’s pushing himself up off the ground. “I guess I’ll just... watch from the grass, then.”

Tim lets his eyes linger on Steve before looking away. “Sounds good,” he says, but his voice doesn’t match the words. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Sure.”

Tim doesn’t stick around to be sure that Steve makes it off the ice safely, instead turning around and skating off. He pulls his hood up over his head as he glides across the ice - an effort to block anyone and anything else out.

He does laps; laps and laps and _laps_, until he’s sure that certain glass blue eyes and chapped lips are completely erased from his mind, and that the crippling fear he’d been overcome with has seeped out of his body.


	6. Chapter 6

“Decorate the tree with me,” Tim says to Steve two days later, after they’ve had breakfast.

“We should probably get it up, Christmas is three days away,” he continues, placing his bowl into the dishwasher.

Steve nods. “Okay. Yeah.”

Things hadn’t quite been the same between them since the ice skating incident, and Steve only has himself to blame. He shouldn’t have... done whatever it was that he did; he’s not sure. He doesn’t want to think about it any more, anyway.

They’d still talked, and hung out, and acted like a couple in front of Tim’s parents, but it had been awkward, and their conversations certainly hadn’t been as free-flowing as they previously were.

It’s like they’re tolerating each other.

Steve hates it.

“Tim, are you sure that it’s really necessary to have _this_ many decorations?” Steve asks, eyeing off the massive box of Christmas ornaments, tinsel and lights that Tim had just lugged into the living room. “I’m all for Christmas, but it just seems a little excessive.”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear you,” Tim dismisses him, grinning over his shoulder. Steve automatically relaxes; a result from the first bit of cheek Tim that had given him in days.

This time, he vows to himself that he’s not going to do anything to fuck it all up.

“Are you sure that your tree can even fit all of this?”

Tim pulls out some silver tinsel, stretching it out in front of him. “Oh, I’ve got no doubts whatsoever,” he says, before glancing across to Steve. “How do you feel about tinsel?”

They get to work; Tim in charge of the lights and ornaments, Steve responsible for the tinsel. He sorts through the different colours; red, white and gold, trying to string them around the tree in some sort of distinguishable pattern. He’s not so sure that he’s doing a decent job, but Tim hasn’t said anything to indicate that he isn’t, and that’s good enough for him.

“Tim, how much tinsel do you _have_?” Steve asks later, when he’s beginning to get a little tired of the sparkly material. He strings some around his shoulders and quirks an eyebrow. “I’ve almost covered the whole tree and there’s still a ton in the box.”

“I want all of it on,” Tim replies distractedly, fingers working on untangling lights.

Steve stares at him incredulously. “All of it? Tim, there’s _mountains_—“

“I did ask if you liked tinsel,” Tim says dryly, giving him a pointed look. “Keep going, Smudger. It’s not a proper Paine Christmas until the tree is suffocated by it.”

Steve sighs, returning back to work. He makes it another five minutes and another piece of tinsel wound around the tree before he’s had enough again, and he resorts to going _fuck it_ and just putting the tinsel on himself. He figures Tim’s too caught up in his own decorations to notice.

Steve has just finished making himself a shiny silver bandana and is tying it around his head when Tim clears his throat behind him. Steve grins to himself, doing his best to hide it before turning around, adjusting the tinsel slung over his shoulders and chest.

“What on earth are you doing?” Tim asks, arms crossed and eyes flickering with something Steve doesn’t think he’s familiar with. It makes his heart do a little flip, warmth rising in his chest.

“Dressing up,” Steve states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, adjusting his makeshift bandana.

There’s a fond smile threatening to spill onto Tim’s lips as he fiddles with the lights in his hands. “Thought I told you to put all of that on the tree.”

“Tree’s full,” Steve says, before his eyes fall onto the pile of excess tinsel to his left. He glances back up to Tim, struck with an idea. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Tim shrugs, still fighting a smile. “I don’t know. Purple, maybe.”

“Wrong answer,” Steve grins and tilts his head towards the tinsel, hoping that Tim will get the hint.

Tim furrows his eyebrows, following Steve’s gaze to the tinsel on the floor before he realises what he’s getting at. “Oh. I guess — gold, then.”

“Perfect,” Steve hums, reaching for the gold tinsel. “How big’s your head?”

Tim snorts. “Big enough.”

Steve rolls his eyes and walks over to Tim. “Hold still,” he says, threading the tinsel around Tim’s head like a headband. A hand reaches up to curl around Tim’s jaw, keeping him steady as he mentally marks the spot he’ll need to tie up later, tongue caught between his teeth.

He’s so focused on his little task that he completely misses Tim swallowing thickly, as well as his cheeks reddening at the action.

Steve turns away briefly to tie up the bandana, biting the excess tinsel off with his teeth before placing it over Tim’s forehead, stepping back to admire his handy work with his hands on his hips.

“There. Now we’re matching.”

Tim bites down on his lip as he meets Steve’s gaze, and the look from before is back; brief adoration flashing in his eyes. Steve’s heart does another flip in strange anticipation.

“You’re something else sometimes, you know?” Tim shakes his head fondly, and he finally allows himself to smile, dimples poking out and grey eyes crinkling. It’s the most genuine smile that Steve has seen from him in days, and it lifts the last of the leftover tension off his shoulders.

Steve breathes out a laugh, nudging Tim’s shoulder as he walks past him to go back to the tinsel.

“You love it.”

The both of them miss Tim’s parents leaning up against the living room doorframe, watching their little exchange with soft smiles on their faces.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, tim's brother is completely my own character. :)

“Tim, your brother is bringing his family over for Christmas Eve tonight,” his mother tells him when he and Steve arrive home in the afternoon, back from some last minute Christmas shopping. “Steve, you remember Josh, don’t you?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, of course. Tim told me that he’s got a little one now?”

Anne smiles. “He does. Georgia. Oh, she’ll absolutely love you.”

Tim hums in agreement, sliding an arm around Steve’s waist and pulling him in close. He knows that he doesn’t really need to; they’ve got his parents convinced, but he feels like the more affection he shows, the better their case is.

That’s what he keeps telling himself, anyway.

“She will,” Tim reaffirms, tapping his fingers against Steve’s hip. “Can’t wait for you to meet her.”

-

Tim had been right. Georgia does love Steve. A lot.

Josh and Georgia had shown up late in the afternoon for their Christmas Eve celebrations, and Tim and Josh had picked up right where they had left off. They’d always been close as kids, and they’d remained as such as they’d grown. Josh had caught up with where Steve was at in life; and his face had lit up when Tim had let him know that himself and Steve were, indeed, together.

Steve and Tim’s cheeks had simultaneously heated as Josh had told them that he’d always known they’d end up with each other.

Georgia had taken a liking to Steve as soon as she’d been introduced to him, grabbing his hand with her tiny one and dragging him over to the living room to play with the toys she had brought. Tim had ignored the fond expression on his mother’s face, as well as the approving nod from his brother as they’d watched on. He absolutely, one hundred percent, hadn’t been horribly endeared by the interaction, either. His heart definitely hadn’t stuttered constantly as he’d watched them, and he hadn’t had to shove down the overwhelming urge to go over and wrap the both of them up in his arms. None of that had happened.

Tim’s not entirely sure he can say the same for currently.

He’s leaning up against an outdoor wall of their house, beer in hand as he watches Steve teach little Georgia how to build a snowman. His lips rise as Steve places some snow on Georgia’s nose with a small grin on his face, heart swelling when Georgia giggles loudly, screwing up her little face and throwing her arms around Steve in a makeshift tackle. Steve ends up on his back, head tilted back as he laughs and lifts Georgia up into the air above him.

“Georgia, you didn’t tell me you could fly!” Tim hears Steve exclaim dramatically, and Georgia giggles harder, eyes squeezing shut as she spreads her arms out wide.

Warmth spreads through Tim’s chest as he takes them in; it pours into every corner of his body, his heart is twice it’s normal size, overcome with sheer adoration, and he wants nothing more than to just march over there and kiss the life out of Steve—

“He’s pretty good with her, isn’t he.” Josh nudges his shoulder as he leans up against the wall next to Tim, nursing his own beer.

“I hoped that you’d end up with him,” he continues softly when Tim doesn’t reply. “I always think back to that time when you were going through some shit as a teenager, after we lost Grandma. You wouldn’t talk to anyone, barely came out of your room for three months,” Josh breathes a laugh, gesturing to Steve out in the backyard. “But you’d talk to him.

“He’d ring from Sydney, and there’d be a light in your eyes that none of us had seen in weeks. You’d stay up till fuck o’clock in the morning on the phone with him, I remember having to bash on the wall sometimes when he’d make you laugh a little too loud, to get you to shut up,” Josh grins.

Tim swallows, unable to tear his eyes off Steve as he plays with Georgia. His heart is racing and his palms are clammy as he slowly and terrifyingly comes to the inevitable realisation that he’d been trying to put off for weeks.

“He used to ring mum, you know,” Josh says, after a period of silence. “He’d ring and ask her about how you were going. Ask if there was anything else he could do that he hadn’t tried to cheer you up, to make you smile. Sometimes even to see if he could come down to stay for a few days.

“He really fucking cared about you, Tim. Mum, Dad and I used to pray to whoever the fuck is up in sky that you would end up with him, eventually, because we knew that he’d never let anything bad happen to you, and that he just... I don’t know. He just made you so damn happy, and we wanted to see you like that all the time,” Josh admits, before turning to face Tim. “You have no idea how ecstatic I was when Mum rang the other day and told me.”

Tim can barely breathe now; his heart is hammering against his ribs and he feels like he’s going to suffocate, throat closing up. He manages a nod despite himself. “O—oh.”

Josh nudges his shoulder again before taking a step away. “Someone like him is a rarity in the world we live in today,” he says. “I’m so glad that you’re happy,” and then he’s heading back inside.

Tim takes a deep, shuddering breath, finally tearing his eyes away from Steve. He tilts his head back against the cool bricks, closing his eyes and willing his hands to stop shaking as he’s finally forced to admit what he’d been avoiding for so long, to acknowledge what’s been right in front of him for all these years.

He’s got feelings for Steve Smith.

Tim upends his beer into his mouth, sculling the cool liquid before pushing himself off the wall and heading inside to get another one.

He has another, and another, and another, until the world starts to blur at the edges, and he can breathe normally again.

-

Steve stands with Anne, Greg and Tim at the front door, seeing Josh and Georgia off with a small smile and a wave. They stay there until the car has pulled out of the street; out of sight, and then Greg nudges the door shut.

“It was great to see Josh again,” Steve says as they all walk back into the kitchen. “Georgia was lovely, too.”

Solid arms thread around his waist and a warm chest presses up against his back. “_You’re_ lovely,” Tim half-slurs, burying his head into the crook between Steve’s neck and shoulder. Steve’s heart lurches, and he glances up, searching for some form of help from Anne or Greg.

Anne send him a hopeless smile, shrugging her shoulders. “Looks like he’s had a few more than what’s necessarily appropriate for a Christmas Eve get-together,” she says, shooting Tim a pointed look.

“Always was clingy when he’d had too many,” Greg adds, a smile playing at his lips. “Sorry, Steve. Didn’t get it from his father.”

“Debatable,” Anne replies, drawing a laugh out of him. “Anyway, I think it’s about time we all head off to bed. It _is_ Christmas tomorrow.”

They exchange their goodnights, and Steve waits until Anne and Greg are up the stairs before jostling Tim.

“Tim,” he murmurs. “They’re gone. You can, um... you can get off me, now.”

Tim’s arms tighten. “Don’t want to,” he murmurs against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve sighs. Greg hadn’t been wrong when he’d said that Tim was a clingy drunk.

“How many did you have?” He asks, attempting to subtly escape Tim’s grip.

“Dunno,” Tim says, and then he’s lifting his head. “‘Nough to make me forget about you and Georgia.”

Steve stills, furrowing his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Tim shakes his head and pulls away from Steve. “Not sure — don’t know what ‘m saying,” he says quietly, before he reaches out to link their hands together. “Should... should sleep. Sleep with me?”

“Uh,” Steve’s cheeks redden slightly at Tim’s choice of words, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Okay,” Tim echoes, but he doesn’t move, instead using their joined hands to pull Steve to him. He curls his arms around Steve’s shoulders and dips his head, so that his lips rest against the soft skin of Steve’s neck. “Okay.”

Steve manages to drag Tim upstairs and to bed eventually. They lie close together; Tim’s arm slung around Steve’s middle and his head resting on his shoulder, legs tangled. Steve doesn’t have the energy to question it, nor worry about what will happen in the morning, when Tim wakes up sober.

He’s just starting to drift off, soothed by Tim’s steady breathing, when Tim shifts and lifts a hand to lazily grip Steve’s jaw.

Steve swallows. “Tim?” He whispers, keeping his eyes closed. “What’re you doing?”

“Do I... do I make you feel different?”

Steve frowns, cracking open his eyes. “Sorry, I’m not sure that I—“

“Because you do,” Tim continues. His thumb strokes along Steve’s jawbone. “You make me feel... _something_. And I hate it, because I don’t know what it is, but you just keep, I don’t know. Being you. And it drives me crazy. Because you don’t even realise that you’re doing it.”

The hand on his jaw disappears, and then Tim’s nestling his head into the crook of his neck.

“I...” Steve starts, but he doesn’t finish. He doesn’t know how to.

They lay in silence afterwards, and he thinks that Tim has finally fallen asleep, judging from the steady rise and fall of his chest. Steve can’t; he stares at the ceiling, repeating Tim’s words over and over again in his head until they all start to mould into one, no longer making sense.

He’s beginning to drift off for a second time, eyes drooping shut, when Tim shifts again, letting out a soft sigh.

“I don’t really hate it, though,” he murmurs. “Wish I made you feel something, too.”


	8. Chapter 8

When Steve stirs awake the next morning, he’s greeted with soft grey eyes and a tiny grin. An arm is resting across his hip, fingers lazily tapping on the skin under his shirt, and their legs are still tangled together from the previous night.

“Hi,” Tim whispers, seemingly unbothered by their, _well_, unnecessary closeness. “Merry Christmas.”

Steve takes a second to admire the man in front of him; eyes focusing on the small curl of pink lips, the messy bed hair falling onto his forehead, the tan skin contrasting against the white sheets, and decides that he’s going to be unbothered, too.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs, own hand moving up to curl around the one Tim has on his hip.

They lay there wordlessly for a while, content to just get lost in each other. Steve lets his eyes rest shamelessly on Tim’s lips. It’s almost torture, being this close to Tim and still not being able to kiss him. His lips are slightly dry; a result of just waking up, but they still look soft, and full, and pink, and fuck, if Steve didn’t have any ounce of self-control, he’d lean forward and—

Steve bites down on his own lip, averting his gaze and unconsciously tightening his hand around Tim’s. He’s glad that Tim can’t actually read this mind, like he claims to be able to do.

The other half of him almost wants Tim to know what he’s thinking.

“...present?”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

Tim quirks a smile before unhooking himself from Steve, slowly climbing out of the bed and walking over towards the cupboard. “Oh, I was just asking if you wanted your Christmas present.”

“You got me a present?” Steve asks dumbly. It’s a stupid question. He’d got one for Tim, too.

“‘Course I did, you idiot,” Tim grins, sitting down cross-legged on the bed and placing a neatly wrapped present between them. “Go on. Open it.”

Steve sits up, mirroring Tim’s crossed legs, and tilts the gift around, examining it. It’s quite small and heavy, and he lets out a little gasp as he tears the wrapping paper off, revealing a quite expensive looking silver watch.

“Tim, I...” he trails off, stripped of his words. His old watch had broken a few months back, and he’d offhandedly said something to Tim about wanting a new one, but not having the money for it. He think he might have distractedly pointed out a similar watch to this one, once, when he and Tim were mucking around in the shops together after work.

“How did you afford this?” Steve gets out eventually, rotating the watch in his hands. “This is ridiculous, you shouldn’t have spent the money on me—“

“Quiet,” Tim cuts him off, grinning. “I wanted to spend the money on you.”

Steve shakes his head and focuses down on the sheets, hiding his blush. “Thank you. I love it.”

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Tim says. “I’ve got something else, too.”

“Something else?” Steve’s eyes widen. “Tim, what—“

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing crazy,” Tim grins, reaching down beside the bed to grab another wrapped present. “Just something I thought you’d like. And need.”

This one is softer, made out of a kind of fabric, and although Steve reluctantly opens it, he can’t fight the smile when he holds the black beanie up, a cursive _Tasmania_ embroidered in light blue letters.

“Is this because I keep using yours?” Steve grins, placing the beanie on his head. “How do I look?”

Tim snorts. “You look beautiful.”

Steve shakes his head to himself, smiling, before looking up and meeting Tim’s gaze. Tim smiles back at him, grey eyes shining, and the air between them settles. Neither of them move, just content to take the other in, to remain in the moment, and then Tim’s tongue slides across his bottom lip as his gaze drifts to Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s eyes rest on Tim’s for a moment more before he swallows thickly, looking away.

“I have something for you, too,” he says eventually, when he’s sure that the blush has faded from his cheeks.

Tim blinks, finally tearing his gaze away from Steve’s lips and moving it up to his eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Steve gets off the bed and goes to his suitcase, pulling a purple envelope out of the top pocket and handing it to Tim before sitting down cross legged opposite him once again. “Here.”

He bites his lip as Tim opens it in nervous anticipation, studying Tim’s face as he reads the card. It’s a bit of a last minute gift, he’ll admit, but he’d been struck with the thought as soon as they’d landed in Tasmania a week ago, and he’d seen Tim’s face light up on the plane.

Tim finishes reading the card and glances up, and Steve shuffles a little. “So?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “It says to ask you what the gift is.”

Steve swallows back the nervousness rising in his chest, taking a deep breath before meeting Tim’s eyes.

“I thought that I’d pay for return flights to Tasmania,” Steve says. “For you, of course. Whenever you want to come back here next.”

Tim’s expression is unreadable as he watches Steve, and so Steve keeps going.

“I just — I know how much you love it here, and I know that you’d be here all the time, if you could. You’re always talking about it back in Sydney, how much you’d rather live in Tassie, but I never really understood the full extent of it until I watched the way your eyes just, I don’t know, _shone_ on the plane,” Steve rambles. “So, uh, yeah. Your next trip out here is on me.”

Tim’s staring at him now, mouth agape, and the next thing Steve knows he’s being tackled to the bed. Tim’s arms fly around his waist in a tight hug as they fall back into the mattress, head nestling in the crook of his neck, and Steve’s hands grip at Tim’s shoulder blades.

“How are you real?” Tim asks breathlessly, looking up into Steve’s eyes. “Honestly, Steve, you don’t have to — flights are so expensive, it’ll empty your bank account, I—“

“I want to, Tim,” Steve echoes Tim from earlier, tightening his arms. “This place makes you happy, and I want to see you happy.”

Tim shakes his head and smiles at him helplessly before burying his head back into Steve’s neck, tangling their legs together once more.

“All the time,” Steve adds, voice quiet and heart in his throat.

Tim breathes a muffled laugh and they lay like that for what feels like forever, pressed up against each other with no space in between.

Although Steve is convinced that his brain had completely made up the soft ‘_I could kiss you, right now,_’ murmured against his throat, it still makes his heart do a somersault, anyway.

-

Steve’s up in Tim’s room after lunch, just off the phone to his parents to wish them a merry Christmas when his phone rings again, Marnus’ contact photo appearing on the screen.

“Hello—“

“Merry Christmas!” Marnus says immediately, cutting Steve off. Steve grins.

“Merry Christmas, Marn. How’s everything going?”

“Yeah, alright,” Marnus says. “Spent the morning at the parents’ house, which was nice. Other than that, everything’s pretty stock standard.” There’s shuffling from the other end before Marnus speaks again. “What about you?”

Steve smiles. “Really well, actually. Had a nice morning with Tim and his family. Won’t be coming home tomorrow, though. Apparently there’s a snow storm forecast,” he explains, recounting the news report they’d watched on the tv that morning. “They’re closing the airport in advance. Too slippery, or something.”

“Well, that fucking sucks,” Marnus says, and Steve can picture the pout he’s currently sporting. “Was looking forward to seeing you back at work. It’s been hell without you. The place is in chaos, no one knows what they’re doing. Thank the lord I’ve got these next two days off.” He lowers his voice for the next part. “In other words, _pleasecomebacksoonimdyingwithoutyouandi_—“

Steve can’t help the laugh. “I’ll be back before you know it, mate. Stop panicking.”

Steve spends the next half hour catching Marnus up on everything he’d missed. He updates him on the Tim situation, tells him that he doesn’t know we’re they’re at. Well, he knows where _he’s_ at. He can’t say the same for Tim.

Marnus tells him that he’s an idiot. “Tim’s as in love with you as you are with him, are you _blind_?!” but Steve dismisses him. Tim’s impossible to read.

He cops more light abuse and empty threats for going ice skating without Marnus, which has him in stitches. He promises Marnus (at least ten times, maybe more) that he’ll go with him as soon as he gets back.

“I’m going to hold you to that promise. When you and Tim get married and move out to Tassie, you better invite me over there in the winter for a skate, or I’m disowning you as a friend immediately.”

Steve snorts. “You wouldn’t. You need me too much to let me go just like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“What was all that before about being lost without me at work? ‘_Steve, I can’t survive without you, oh my god, no one knows what they’re doing, Steve, please come back_—‘“

“Fuck, you’re insufferable,” Marnus laughs, surrendering. “Fine. I love and appreciate you too much to let our friendship crumble over ice skating. Is that enough to fuel your ego?”

Steve grins. “Oh, absolutely.”

“Good. Also, I’ve made the executive decision to withdraw your Christmas present. Nothing personal, or anything,” Marnus says playfully, and Steve grins.

“I love you, Marnus Labuschagne. Can’t wait to see you when I get home.”

Marnus laughs. “Hate you, Steven Smith.”

-

It’s Christmas Day, Tim’s in Tasmania with his family, he’s just eaten a delicious Christmas lunch, and he’s in love with Steve Smith.

There’s no point in denying it any longer, even though it still terrifies him to no end. He wants to say that he’d realised this morning, when Steve had given him the best gift he’s ever received, but he knows he’d be lying. Tim’s known for years, maybe since he’d had Steve stay in Tasmania with him as a teenager. He’d just refused to acknowledge what had been in front of his face for all of this time.

He fidgets in his spot on the couch as he becomes accustomed to the foreign feeling coursing through his veins, pumping through his heart, and takes a deep, shaky breath.

He, Tim Paine, is in love with Steve Smith.

Tim knows that Steve is upstairs, on the phone to his parents, but he can’t sit still. He wants to go up there and tell Steve everything, from the beginning. Wants to explain himself. Wants to hold Steve’s hand, wants to kiss him into the mattress, wants to ask him out on a date. Wants to catch up on everything he’s been missing because he’s been too much of a coward to admit his feelings to himself.

Tim pushes himself off the couch and makes his way upstairs, unable to suppress the urge any longer. He’s buzzing with a nervous energy, his hands are shaking a little and his heart is pounding, but Tim’s sure.

He’s never been so sure of anything in his life.

He hears Steve’s warm laugh travel out of his room as he makes it to the top of the stairs, followed by, “Oh, absolutely.” Tim’s chest tightens with a nervous kind of excitement as he gets closer to the door, and he’s not entirely sure of what his plan is once he’s with Steve, but he’s sure that he can work something out—

“I love you, Marnus Labuschagne.”

Tim freezes just as he’s reaching an arm out to the door, blood running cold and heart plummeting to his toes so quickly that he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter.

There’s a pause, and then another radiant laugh. The sound makes Tim’s heart swell painfully and he sucks in a sharp breath at the awful sensation.

“I know you love me, too, don’t lie,” Tim hears Steve say, and he can’t listen anymore, squeezing his eyes shut. Everything within him aches; it feels like his whole body is trembling, like he has no control over anything, anymore, and so he does the only thing he can think to do - escape.

He forces himself to breathe when he gets back to the safety of the living room couch; counting to ten and back and taking deep, shaky breaths with his head in his hands.

He’s angry - he’s fucking _furious_ \- but not at Steve. Tim digs his nails into his palms, ignoring the sharp sting as he mentally reprimands himself for being such an idiot and not taking his chance when it was right. The fuck. _In front of him_.

Steve _had_ loved him. He knows that he had, thanks to his one sided conversation with Josh the other night.

Hot tears prick at his eyes and Tim furiously wipes them away, shaking his head.

He’d had the chance to be with Steve. In fact, he’d had about ten fucking years to initiate what could have been. Steve had gotten tired of waiting, and he’d moved on to be with someone who didn’t ignore what was right in front of him the whole time.

_Marnus_. Tim had forgotten all about _Marnus_.

There’s a gentle lick to his knee, and then a soft weight pressing against it. Maggie looks up at Tim with wide, innocent brown eyes, and that’s all it takes for the barriers to burst. Tim buries his face into her fur to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks, trembling hands clutching at her thick coat so tightly that his knuckles start to turn white. He chokes back the sobs that threaten to shake his whole body, knowing that his parents are in the next room over, and clings on to Maggie for dear life.

Tim ‘falls asleep on the couch’ later that night. Steve doesn’t wake him to carry him up to the room. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

When Tim eventually does start to doze off on the too-small couch, it’s with an empty, hollow heart. He’s so numb that the immense cold the night brings has no effect on him.

Tim offhandedly wonders if he’ll ever be able to breathe properly again as he dips under.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve wants to go home.

He’s been stuck inside for three days, it’s freezing outside, and Tim won’t talk to him.

In fact, he’s lucky if Tim even spares him a second glance.

The worst part, Steve thinks, as he watches Tim get up out of bed and walk out of the room without acknowledging him, yet again, is that he doesn’t even know what he’s done wrong.

He’s too much of a coward to ask.

Steve thinks that Anne and Greg had started to suspect that something was up by the second day, which is why he’s grateful that they’re using a break in the extreme weather to go and catch up with some old friends. He and Tim see them off at the door, both giving them tight hugs and wishing them well before they leave.

“No funny business, you two,” Greg jokes; the last thing he says to them before closing the car door. Steve can’t bring himself to laugh.

Tim flees to his room the moment his parents pull out of the driveway, and Steve sighs, mentally preparing for another day of being trapped inside with only a dog for company.

He scratches Maggie’s head as he slumps onto the couch, flicking the tv to provide himself with some sort of entertainment. He runs through a few channels aimlessly before landing on the news channel.

“...if you need to stock up on supplies, Tasmanians, there is due to be a gap in the weather this morning,” the weatherman says, and Steve sits up a little straighter. “This little period of relief should last until mid-afternoon. Do not stay out any later than you have to, to prevent getting caught in the snow storm.”

Steve shrugs to himself, flicking the tv off. Couldn’t hurt him to escape this living hell for a while, to go outside and get some fresh air.

He doesn’t bother telling Tim about his plans, figuring that he won’t even realise he’s gone. He pulls on a jacket and his new beanie - the one that Tim had gifted him for Christmas - and grabs his phone off the bench, slipping out the door silently.

-

Tim is frantically racing around the house hours later, searching every corner and every room for Steve.

He’d been awoken from his nap half an hour ago by his phone buzzing on the bed next to him, screen lit up with an emergency alert.

_DANGER_, the text had read. _Blizzard approaching. Seek shelter, stay indoors._

Tim hadn’t been too concerned at first. He’d called out lazily to Steve from the top of the stairs, figuring that he just hadn’t heard him when he hadn’t gotten a reply. Tim had gone on to give his parents a call, making sure that they were okay, before heading downstairs to make himself some lunch.

He’d expected to see Steve making his own lunch in the kitchen, or maybe to see him curled up on the couch in front of the tv, but Steve hadn’t been in either of those places. Tim had called out again, and again, he’d been met with no reply, and Tim had realised that something was very, very wrong.

He’s out of breath by the time he’s made it around the house, and very nearly starting to panic as the reality of the situation begins to set in.

Tim doesn’t know where Steve is, and there’s a fucking blizzard outside.

He grabs his phone and frantically dials Steve’s number, losing more and more hope with every ring. Eventually, it goes to voicemail, and Tim lets out a helpless groan.

He rings again, and again, with no prevail. Tim tosses the phone frustratedly onto the couch and collapses down onto the soft fabric, putting his head in his hands, trying to ignore his heart throwing itself against his ribcage.

“God, Mags, what do I do?” Tim asks his dog when she pads over to him. He glances out of the window, taking a deep breath when he notices that the snow is falling considerably heavier than what it was ten minutes ago.

Maggie nuzzles her head between his hands, providing Tim with a source of comfort in a situation so dire. Tim swallows thickly, trying not to consider all the worst case scenarios.

“God, Steve, you’re a fucking idiot,” he mutters as he tries to still his breathing, looking out of the window. “I hope you know what you’re doing out there.”

-

Steve makes it back to the Paine’s later that afternoon, after a pleasant morning in town. He’d been to a quaint little cafe in the middle of the town centre, where he’d sipped on a creamy, warm hot chocolate. He’d gone on to explore the parts of the town that Tim hasn’t taken him to before heading back, content and feeling less like wanting to disappear.

Steve distantly notes that the snow falling from the sky is considerably heavier than what it was when he’d left the town to walk home. He wrinkles his nose when a thick snowflake lands on his cheek, brushing it off.

A strong gust of wind suddenly hits, almost blowing him over, and he’s starting to get peppered by snow, so Steve hurries to the front door, a little unnerved.

Steve brushes excess snow off his jacket when he gets safely inside, smiling slightly when Maggie comes bounding over to him happily.

“Hey, Mag—“

A body crashes into Steve, knocking him back against the door and ripping his voice from him. Tim’s arms are wound around Steve’s middle so tightly that he thinks he might suffocate, and his head is tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Tim almost growls after a moment, pulling his head back. “God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” and then there’s a pair of lips pressing insistently against his own.

-

Tim almost can’t breathe.

It’s been three hours, now, since he woke up. Steve still isn’t home, and Tim can barely see the house across the road from the window.

He’s pacing up and down in the living room, phone in hand, going through his options. Does he call the well-known businesses in town and ask if they’ve seen anyone matching Steve’s description? Does he risk it and go out to look for him himself? Does he call the fucking police?

It won’t be long until the weather really starts to become catastrophic, and if Steve gets caught outdoors when the storm cell hits, Tim knows that it’ll probably be curtains. The thought makes his heart sink, weighed down with an immense feeling of longing and helplessness.

Tim paces for another couple of minute before the panic overtakes the hopelessness, and he decides that enough is enough. He hovers his thumb over the number to the local police station, about to press down, and then the door pushes open. Steve steps into the house, covered in ice from head to toe, teeth chattering.

A tidal wave of relief combined with anger crashes over Tim’s head as he takes Steve in, hardly believing that this is real, and that Steve is there, in his house, standing right in front of him. Tim drops his phone onto the couch and makes a beeline for Steve, pushing him up against the door and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, shoving his head into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Tim ends up growling when he pulls his head back, emotions taking over. His eyes scan over Steve’s face, drinking him all in, and Tim makes a rash decision, right then and there.

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” and then he’s surging forward, gripping Steve’s jaw with his hand and covering his lips with his own.

Steve stutters for a moment, baffled, before his eyes flutter shut and he curls his fingers around Tim’s hips. Tim presses Steve further up against the door and swipes a tongue across Steve’s bottom lip; a silent question. Steve complies and parts his lips, letting out a quiet groan when Tim bites at his bottom lip gently before slipping his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Both of Tim’s hands have now lifted to grip at Steve’s jaw, tilting his head to the side as their mouths move together to deepen the kiss further, and Steve lets a hand slip under Tim’s shirt, moving it slowly up and down Tim’s chest. Their tongues curl together and the sensation has Steve shuddering, hands stilling against against Tim’s chest. Tim sighs into Steve’s mouth before pulling away for air, leaving his hands resting on Steve’s jaw.

“Do you have _any idea_,” Tim breathes, leaning forward to press a close mouthed kiss to Steve’s mouth, “how fucking,” another kiss, “_worried_,” another one, “I was about you?”

Steve’s blue eyes are lidded and shot, lips full and pink and kiss-swollen. His chest rises and falls against Tim’s as he takes deep breaths. “Worried?”

Steve’s voice is raspy and weak, and Tim has to physically hold himself back from pushing Steve up against the wall again and having his way with him, instead opting to lean forward and rest his forehead against Steve’s shoulder. “Did you not get the alert message?”

Steve slides the hand pressed against Tim’s chest around to his back, under his shirt. “Alert message?”

“Steve, you can’t be serious,” Tim says, pulling back and gesturing towards the window. “There’s a fucking blizzard outside. I didn’t know where you were, and you wouldn’t answer my calls, my texts, anything!”

Steve blinks. “I — my phone died, I didn’t... I didn’t know.”

Tim sighs and pulls Steve back into his chest, threading his arms around his shoulders. “I thought... I thought that I’d lost you. Was about to call the fucking police, and everything.”

Steve’s arms move to loop around Tim’s waist. “M sorry. I’m here, now. With you.”

Tim doesn’t say anything else, just presses his head back into Steve’s shoulder and pulls Steve impossibly closer against him. He closes his eyes and allows himself to breathe; allows himself to come down from everything that he’s been faced with in the last five hours.

Tim’s heart rate has finally returned to normal some time later, with Steve still in his arms. He’s exhausted, and he’s about to try his luck and suggest that they move this to the couch, or maybe even upstairs to the bed, when he freezes, suddenly struck by a sickening thought.

_Marnus_. Tim had completely forgotten about _Marnus_.

He’d just made out with someone else’s boyfriend.

He wrenches himself away from Steve, making the other man jolt and look up in surprise. Tim aches when Steve’s arms automatically reach for him as he puts space in between them.

“O—oh, my god, Steve, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t even think about what I was doing, oh, god,” he says, running a distressed hand through his hair.

“Tim, wha...?” Steve looks like he’s been slapped across the face.

“I just — you have a boyfriend!” Tim exclaims. “And I just kissed the shit out of you. I didn’t even think about Marnus, I—“

“_Marnus_?” Steve cuts him off, looking at him incredulously. “Tim, what the fuck are you on about?”

Tim almost mirrors Steve’s bewildered expression. “You’re... you’re dating Marnus! Aren’t you?”

Steves jaw hangs open for a moment. “You think — I’m not dating Marnus!” He blurts. “I would never — I mean, he’s a good guy, but I’d never—“

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! I don’t... Tim, how did you—"

“Are you one hundred percent sure?” Tim asks, heart pounding.

“Yes!” Steve says, voice exasperated. “For fucks sake, I’d never date him, because I’ve wanted to date you for almost ten years!”

It’s Tim’s turn to be baffled. He gapes at Steve, and Steve rolls his eyes, stepping forward to pull Tim into another kiss. This one is less rushed and intense; Steve takes charge and kisses him deeply and thoroughly, as if he’s trying to prove a point. He winds a hand up into Tim’s hair, threading his fingers through it and tugging slightly as he sinks his teeth gently into Tim’s bottom lip, drawing a quiet moan out of Tim. He pulls away soon after, resting their foreheads together.

“Tim, you’re a fucking idiot,” Steve echoes Tim’s words from earlier, breathing a laugh. He frames Tim’s face with his hands and presses a feather light kiss to his nose. “I can’t believe you thought I had the hots for _Marnus_. _Marnus_, of all people. Tim, how could I want him when _you_ exist—“

Tim surges forward to cut Steve off with his lips, pressing him back into the door. “Be quiet,” he murmurs when he pulls away after a while, when their cheeks are flushed and their lips are swollen. “I hate you,” and then they’re kissing again, hands roaming and quiet gasps and sighs echoing throughout the living room.


	10. Chapter 10

Tim and Steve are walking hand in hand through twinkling Christmas light displays in the local park. The cool night air is nipping at their skin, but Tim isn’t cold.

Steve’s looking around at the lights in awe, they’re reflecting off his eyes and making them shine, and Tim loves him.

“I’m in love with you,” spills out of his mouth helplessly, adoration coating his words, and Steve freezes in place, head whipping around to face Tim.

“I... I’m sorry?” He asks, eyes wide. “I’m not sure that I quite got that?“

Tim swallows down the nervousness bubbling up in his chest and gives Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “I’m in love, with you,” he says again, looking directly into Steve’s eyes. “Everything about you, I just — I don’t know.” He tilts his head towards the ground. “Can’t believe I’ve gone this long without admitting it to myself. Everyone else around me could see it, too.”

Tim’s being pulled into a solid, warm chest, arms threading around his waist and soft lips pressing against his forehead. His own arms curl around Steve’s back.

“I’m in love with you, too,” Steve says softly against Tim’s skin, pulling him in impossibly closer. “I have been for what seems like forever”

Tim pulls Steve down for a kiss, helpless to the urge. They kiss there, in the middle of the park Christmas lights, and for that brief moment, it’s just them, even though there’s crowds of people pushing past them.

“You make me the happiest man in the world,” Tim breathes against Steve’s lips, letting a helpless smile slip as Steve pulls him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, there you have it.
> 
> hope you enjoyed. i certainly enjoyed writing it.
> 
> merry christmas. :)


End file.
